


Depends on the Dream

by koushi



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M, Medical Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koushi/pseuds/koushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yusuf recommends dream therapy to Cobb. Cobb takes it a little too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Depends on the Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or any of its characters.  
> Notes: Written for [forgerness](http://forgerness.livejournal.com).

“I’m afraid it’s quite serious, Mr. Cobb,” Yusuf said, raising a finger to nudge his glasses into place as he pored over Cobb’s chart. “You need help.”

Cobb wasn’t quite sure exactly _when_ he’d gotten into the doctor’s office and certainly not _how_ , but at the moment he was too distracted to ponder such insignificant topics. He was too busy admiring the good-looking doctor with the dark curls and matching facial scruff, his deliciously tan skin in stark contrast with his crisp white robe.

“Uh,” Cobb managed to stutter, realizing that he’d been sitting and staring at the doctor for a good minute or two. _Hope I don’t get diagnosed with an unhinged jaw,_ he chuckled inwardly. His eyes drifted down to Yusuf’s chest, on which his name was embroidered: Yusuf, M.D. “W-What kind of treatment would that require, Dr. Yusuf?”

“Hm, a daily dosage of medications should normally suffice, but I don’t think that’s proven effective in your case,” Yusuf continued as he eyed the bottom of the chart, on which he’d scribbled notes, ostensibly from their last meeting. “For you, I would prescribe, in its stead, physical therapy.”

Cobb bit his lip, whether from worry or from restraint—he had the strangest urge to plant them on his physician’s lips, surely not the best idea he’s come up with—he wasn’t sure. “That sounds serious. Do you think I have a chance at recovery if I follow this regimen?”

“One hundred percent,” Yusuf smiled cheerily as he set the clipboard on the counter next to the q-tips and tongue depressors. He reached for his box of powder-free latex gloves and slipped them expertly over his hands with a tight thwack, one by one. Turning back to Cobb, Yusuf flexed his fingers and said matter-of-factly, “Now, let’s begin. Please undo your trousers.”

 _Huh?_ Cobb blinked twice. Slowly. _Did I dream that bit up?_ He felt himself reach for the hem of his pants to unfasten his belt, but he did so with apprehension, as if he were awaiting as swift reprimand. But all Yusuf did was to nod in encouragement.

He continued, feeling a slight flush fall over his face, which he hoped Yusuf did not notice. When he stood and let them slide to the floor in a crumpled pile around his ankles, Cobb stood self-consciously in his boxers in the middle of the examination room. To his horror, he glanced down and noticed that he was sporting a semi, his hardening head visibly outlined in the knit fabric.

“This will be highly intensive,” Yusuf advised with a stoical expression, as if he didn’t notice the protrusion. He waved his hand as if brandishing a wand. “I’m afraid the rest will have to go as well.”

The more he spoke, the more Cobb felt himself redden, as the blood rushed to his face and… certain other areas. But he was a good patient and did what he was told, slipping his fingers underneath the band and pulling them down to reveal a neatly trimmed crop atop an unmistakably stiffened cock.

Yusuf smacked his lips in approval, uncrossing his arms from the stance he’d taken while waiting for Cobb to overcome his embarrassment. “Good, now we can get down to business.” He took a couple steps forward, almost flush into Cobb, but stopped just a hair shy, kneeling down to grip at his tensed thighs. Cobb shuddered at the touch but remained still for the most part, watching on awkwardly as his cock bobbed just inches from Dr. Yusuf’s seemingly oblivious face.

“You see where your problem is,” Yusuf remarked, squeezing his quads firmly to indicate the areas of concern. “You’re as tight as a knot, hard as a rock.” _I’ll say._ Cobb had never been so aware of the heat percolating at the head of his cock as he was currently. He shuffled his feet in frustration with his inability to address the problem, longing to take it in hand… or better yet, plunge it between those sexy lips. Instead, he nodded obediently.

Cobb felt himself moan inadvertently from the expertise of Yusuf’s capable fingers as they glided across to his inner thigh with a superhuman, even _vibrating_ quality. _This is your doctor you’re thinking about, Dom, you old perv,_ he scolded himself. _He’s just dispensing medical treatment, nothing more._ But he couldn’t hide from the fact that he was reduced to a mess of a man by this suave motherfucker, steeped in arousal and inches from drowning.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought, relenting to the aching sensitivity in his swollen cock. If Yusuf couldn’t see the monster hard-on flapping in his face then dammit, he wasn’t going to notice Cobb taking care of business. His skin felt burning hot to the touch, but it was grateful for the impending relief. He began with rough needy strokes, grasping the head and spreading the handy natural lubricant, which had begun pooling at his slit, across the length.

“I admire your tenacity,” Yusuf began, never deviating from that tone of impartiality, “but this is a job for a trained specialist.” To Cobb’s surprise and dumbfounded elation, he removed Cobb’s fingers and turned his full attention to his cock.

The tightness in his groin spasmed as Yusuf laid those magic fingers on his cock, bringing it to a level of tormented pain-pleasure he was certain he couldn’t take much longer. Over-stimulation flooded Cobb’s senses until his mind was a whimpering wreck, the pathetic noises issuing from his lips making no secret of it. He felt his toes curl up, his knees just short of collapsing as a shiver emanated from his spine down to all of his extremities.

Yusuf’s hot breath tickled the hairs on his thighs as he worked Cobb ruthlessly with firm tugs, giving every inch of his cock the curative treatment. _They sure taught him well in med school,_ Cobb mused breathily, chewing on his bottom lip. A stray curl fell into Yusuf’s face, obscuring his view, and Cobb inadvertently swept it away. _Why did you…?_ He questioned himself immediately after the act but was interrupted by Yusuf’s furious rubs, heightening into a maddening pace.

 _I can’t hold on._ His breaths became ragged as Cobb felt his body, separating itself from his mind in preparation for euphoria. “Yusf… fuck… I’m gonna come…”

And he came. Harder even than the time he’d jerked off in the warehouse before work, using only a sweater Yusuf had left behind as an olfactory aid. Inhaling the spicy musk of his cologne—probably a homemade concoction now that he thought of it—Cobb brought himself to sweet release. But this time, in this eerily realistic dream, Cobb felt all control ripped away from him as he bucked his hips into Yusuf’s steady palms, a throaty grunt escaping him. He rode the blindingly powerful orgasm out, still twitching in his doctor’s grip when his mind resurfaced.

Yusuf stood and retrieved a towel from the cabinet, the consummate professional, unfettered by his patient’s sunset of bliss. He wiped his face and hands as casually as if he’d just done a routine blood pressure check and stated, “It seems we’ve gotten the issue under control for now.”

Cobb felt self-conscious as the absurdity of the situation hit him. _Shit._ He was bare-ass-naked in the examination room, cradling his softening cock before his dangerously attractive doctor, whom he’d just blessed with a facial. Every man’s fantasy except for, you know, the awkward aftermath.

Yusuf winked, taking note of his horrified expression, and tossed Cobb a fresh towel for his own much-needed clean-up. He adjusted his stethoscope and opened the door, calling back over his shoulder, “I’ll see you in two weeks for your follow-up, Mr. Cobb.” And he was gone.

 _Damn,_ thought Cobb. _Two of the longest weeks of my life._ With such an, ahem, inviting bedside manner, Cobb understood why Yusuf was in high demand with his patients.

But then, out of nowhere, a snap and a hiss. He felt his memory waning as the scene faded to black…

Cobb was sticky, drenched in a cocktail of sweat and come, as he awoke. _Third wet dream in as many days,_ he groaned as he gathered up the sheets and headed for the laundry bin.

He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to manage to face Yusuf at the warehouse the next day without turning siren red and averting his eyes. _Yeah, your suggestion of dream therapy? It’s been working, although perhaps a bit_ too _well_. But he could never admit it, that Yusuf’s recurring projection was a better salve than any chemical compound on this Earth.

Something, though… something felt a bit off. Cobb looked around the room: nothing had been disturbed. Downstairs, the doors were soundly locked, with no signs of intrusion. But when he checked his wrist, he was stunned by a fresh drop of blood dotting the site of what appeared to be a recent Somnacin injection. Cobb scratched his head as he pondered whether the lingering scent of warm spices remained from his dream, or…


End file.
